AREA LAW ENFORCEMENT

The following are the calls to Town Marshall’s Office for three months starting May 15, 1995 and ending August 15, 1995

(Includes referrals from other area law enforcement agencies)

May 15 - 8 traffic violations - Cow in roadway - Locked keys in truck - Says wife looses too much in Bingo, shouldn’t come home - May 16 - Towing - 3 traffic violations - May 17 No Activity - May 18 - 1 traffic violation - aliens sighted - dead animal(Mayor out of town) May 19- Investigate burglary, was son , all forgiven- 2 traffic violations May 20 - Emus run amuck - DWI - DWI- DWI- DWI-May 21 - Cow in road - 7 traffic violations - May22 - Lost calf - children gone fishing, been three days - May 23 - Children back, caught a mess - DWI. DWI, 4 traffic violations. May 24 - Fight at dominos game, shut it down - Drove party home , 2 traffic violations - May 25 - no activity - May 26 - solve Houston drug trafficing case - May 27 - Testify - May 28 - Drive accused to prison - May 29 - DWI, 2 traffic violations May 30 - Pick up paroled prisoner sentenced on 27th - Cow in road, 3 traffic violations - June 1 - 15th vacation - June 16 - 7 violations, find evidence in OJ case, DWI - June 17 - Chickens loose, ducks loose, cow loose, chased by dog through square - apprehend -June 18 - 3 violations - suspect dumping salt water on roads , Owl after chickens - June 19 - Cow on road, 2 violations - June 20 - Says saw ghost of Old Joe on square with dogs- June 21 - dead animal (mayor in hospital) , 3 violations - June 22 - singing too loud at 3AM - tow vehicle - 2 violations - June 23 - Citizen needs ride to La Grange, groceries , two violations, DWI - June 24 - Says wife lost in bingo, can’t come in - June 25 - thinks horse apples are poison. 2 violations, another alien sighting, groceries, long day - June 25 - Students from Paris need translation, calf loose, 6 violations - June 26 - pull kid from fire, 2 traffic violations - June 27 - capture 6-return Huntsville - June 28 - dead animal (mayor at conference), 2 violations, bull loose - June 29 - no activity - June 30 - ride tornado - June 31 - 3 violations, DWI, DWI, DWI, DWI, skunk in church - July 1 - beat John Henry drivin steel - July 2 - 4 violations , save democracy, create new world order, cow in road - July 3 - Barricades and signs - July 4 - God Bless America - July 5 - cleanup, push float off square with bulldozer, 2 violations - July 6 - 3 cows in road, emus again, groceries - July 7 - Buffalo in town hall, 3 violations, repair landscape - July 8 - no activity - July 9 - DWI, DWI, 11 violations, transport subject to CIA, fox in chickenhouse - July 10 - Training in Austin, learned diddle - July 11 - More BS - July 12 - leave convention, make 107 arrests in Austin - July 12 - coyotes waking him up, dead animal (Mayor in Nashville) - July 13 - 5 violations - July 14 - No activity, too hot - July 15-29- the same - July 30 - Pull herd from flood, fight over garbage drop off, closed dump down, fight over bingo, closed it down, fighting in Boznia, closed it down - July 31 - 2 violations, goats in garden, says he can fence Cummins Creek, Clean wire out of creek - Aug. 1 - Visit White House, stop assassination, save free world, 3 violations, cow in road - Aug 2 - no activity - Aug. 3 - wild turkey in garden, says she won in bingo, won’t come home, 2 violations - Aug. 4 - save bald eagle, groceries for citizen, lost kitten, kiss babies - Aug. 5 - 5 violations, bulldoze oil truck, transport suspects - Aug. 6 - 4 violations, DWI, DWI, find holy grail - Aug. 7 - mow square, mow it some mo, 3 violations - Aug 8 - stop bank robbery, return money, give robber’s wallet to Fire Chief. Aug. 9 - Attend Vol. Fire Dept. training program, drive firemen home, too drunk - Aug. 10 - 4 violations, alien sighting, Elvis too, says he took her Bingo winnings, groceries - Aug 11 - Septic tank erupts, evacuate - Aug 12 - loose 3-legged horse, says Old Joe’s not dead, saw in square, 4 violations, cow in road - Aug 13 - Possum in town hall, DWI, 2 violations, drive oil truck off cliff, clean up spill - Aug 14 - File environmental impact statement, dead animal (Mayor on Space Shuttle) - Aug 15 - 9 violations, cow in road, says wife’s lover gives her the bingo money, can’t come home, wife laughs, mayor calls home from space, 2 violations, cow in road.

At first, both men were assumed to be in their cups; however, after a further examination of Marshall Luger’s battered frame, it came to light that the Marshall had in fact been lofted by a tornado on his property just outside Round Top and blown across the county to Warda. Upon arriving, our stout and sturdy marshall, being a modest man, informed the local citizenry that under no circumstances was the story to be bandied about in public.

As few are willing to contradict the fine lawman when he is certain on a point, the story did not leak to the Register until recently.

Apparently the marshall was working on the roof of his barn when a big wind blew up and lofted him and a 24 ft. piece of corrogated tin into the sky.

The Marshall was back repairing his barn on his off-duty hours when our reporter approached him. "Scuse me marshall, but we heard you flew across the county in a tornado the other day...?"

His steel glare wilted our reporter’s determination. The mighty lawman looked wistfully into the sky...

"Windy day." he said, then refused further comment.

Arkley Snarder, the Warda area farmer who claimed to see Marshall Luger’s flight described his experience to the Register.

"I saw it with my own eyes, he come scootin’ across the sky on this big piece of tin. He was up on his knees with lightnin’ shootin’ all around him. Then, he up an grabbed the side of that shudderin’ tin and kind of banked it into the wind...looked like one o’ them northern fellars on a snow sled...and aimed right for this big lone pine tree.

"At the last minute, he jumped right up on that thing and sprung for that pine like a big monkey. That sheet of tin flashed by me like the edge of a knife.

"He grabbed that pine trunk in his bare hands and whirled around ‘bout five or six times, tree limbs busting all over the place, ‘till finally, he come to a stop.

"I heard him say. ‘Whew...that was fun.’ Then he shimmied on down the tree.

"I could tell he didn’t know I was there so I called out to him. He walked up to me just fine as you please...his clothes all tore up but he didn’t seem to be hurt none.

"I tried not to tell nobody like the Marshall said but it just keeps bustin’ out o’ my mouth."

The Register’s investigation is ongoing.

MARSHALL HALTS CONCERT AT FESTIVAL- INSTITUTE

Unfortunately, it was determined that the concert had already occurred on April 13th and that the local newspaper had incorrectly announced the date in its Event Calendar.

The Marshall reported that a crowd of over eighty angry classical music aficionados had begun to riot by the time he arrived.

"I guess that dang fool editor had gone down there to try to cool ‘em off. He was sittin’ in the parkin’ lot on a lawn chair with his guitar and a harmonica singin’ All you Need is Love but they weren’t havin’ none of it. They commenced to chanting ‘Mozart! Mozart! Mozart!’ and stompin’ their feet. It sounded like a dang herd o’ stampedin’ cattle."

The Marshall tried to gain the overwrought crowd’s attention but failed by normal means. He was forced to pick up a would-be concert goer’s Volvo and by carrying it across the parking lot out to Jaster Road, he was able to quiet the altercation.

"Well, the tow truck was late and I got tired of waiting," stated the stalwart lawman.

"A bunch of ‘em had that fool editor in a headlock and was draggin’ him across the road screamin’ ‘In the lake! In the lake!’...They was gonna pitch him off that stone bridge. Not that I mind them dunkin’ that smart alec but we can’t allow that sort of behavior here in Round Top."

In other law enforcement business, two visitors to our town, Miss Sheila May Wilcox and a man who would not give his name to our reporter claim to have sighted the apparition "Old Joe" while waiting for a table at Royers’ Round Top Cafe.

"He was surrounded by children, say 10-11 years old, and he was talking to them," said Miss Wilcox. "They were all fuzzy. It was like you could see through them...’Golly’ I thought, ‘this is wierd. It’s like something on the X-files." No additional witnesses were found by Marshall Luger and, rolling his stern and foreboding eyes, he released the witnesses to pursue their repast and whatever other questionable activities lay before them.

FORMAL COMPLAINT FILED
WITH TOWN MARSHAL

On August 14, a group of concerned citizens filed a petition alleging that Round Top Publishing Company, the media “empire in the making” behind the world famous Round Top Register, is not adhering to ethical principles established by the journalism industry. Further, the statement alleges that some stories printed by the publication are fabricated.

The charges were first filed with the American Journalism Review on August 13, 1996.

The next day, a citizen filed the similar complaint with the Town Marshal’s office.

In a statement to the press, Marshal Luger said the following “There ain’t no question that paper lies like a rug. Why, half the stuff in there is made up... but the thing is...that fool editor tells the truth about his lyin’ so I don’t see what I can do about it. I mean everbody knows the fool thing is a bedtime story but he ain’t exactly promisin’ to tell the truth, now is he?”

Round Top Publishing Company has issued a public statement regarding the complaints as follows... To those who claim that our newspaper does not tell the truth... we offer these few words of wisdom from well known truth tellers...

“If I locked up every liar in this county there’d be more people in the caboose than out,” he allowed. He then suggested in a firm voice that the complainants return to their business endeavors and all were obliged to obey his wishes.

In other law enforcement business, investigators are still searching for explanations to the mysterious disappearance of several trees on the Round Top Town Square on August 26th. One source claims it was the result of a berserk lumberjack’s attempts to clear-cut city property. Another states that the missing foliage were victims of alien abduction. Town officials deny all allegations and assert that the missing trees are part of a beautification project on the Square and that if people will relax, everything will be very pretty when they’re done.

In fact, the mayor and council in the past have held town meetings with the county judge, county commissioners, and representatives of the Texas Highway Commission and the Department of Public Safety. These gentlemen all offered suggestions about how the residents of the town could deal with traffic enforcement, particularly the problem of large 18-wheel trucks passing through town at high rates of speed.

Unfortunately, the efforts of town officials to go through the system had not produced results and Town Marshal Zapp Luger was forced to step in.

In early February, the Marshal was quoted by local citizens as saying, "Well, it's a state highway and it don't fit in my jurisdiction, but I'm tired of listenin' to all the bellyachin'. Besides, the other night I was sittin' in Klumps drinkin' a Shiner an a big ol' truck downshifted at the Square and vibrated my beer across the table into my lap. That makes it personal."

During the following week the Marshal began by politely asking passing truck drivers to slow down. He handed out no citations and even welcomed the truckers to town and shook their hands.

Sadly, this method did not prevail and the Marshal was forced into sterner measures.

In the second week, he began to issue citations to speeding truckers in the hopes that an economic restraint would do the job.

Unfortunately, the tickets did not get the attention of the hasty operators so our dauntless lawman had to tighten his grip.

In the third week, Marshal Luger began to jail the errant coachmen and impound their vehicles but apparently the drive to drive was so strong that the newly released hog handlers no sooner got back on the road but they were back to their old habits.

At this point, it seems that our hardy keeper of the peace became a bit frustrated. According to a variety of nattering lawyers for trucking firms, our loyal protector had no legal right to bulldoze the seven 18-wheel trucks into Cummins Creek. Nor, say these nitpicking legal eagles, was it appropriate for him to tar and feather their drivers. They seemed particularly offended by the holes blown in passing trucks by the Marshal's bazooka and the community service Marshal Luger required offenders to serve in cleaning dairy farm stalls.

We could have told them had they listened. It is not wise to disdain Zapp Luger's law.

MARSHAL LUGER'S "LOST YEARS
AS FAYETTEVILLE ARTIST BARED

Local Arts Patronette Exposes
Legendary Lawman's Bohemian Past

Round Top - Disturbing revelations about the early years of Round Top Marshal, Zapp Luger, have come to the forefront of public awareness in recent weeks.

Round Top arts patronette, Mrs. Carol Ann Quackenbush, has allegedly uncovered proof that our good marshal lived a bohemian lifestyle as a Fayette- ville artist earlier in life.

"I like to call them his lost years." states Mrs. Quackenbush. "I discovered the whole thing innocently enough. I was doing research for the upcoming Second Annual Round Top Arts Festival and I came upon some paintings in the attic of a shop in Fayetteville. They had a very interesting style, sort of an expressionist's view of surrealistic cubism as seen by an impressionist."

"In any event, there on the bottom in a wild vermilion script was the artist's signature. It said simply "Zapp." I assumed they were contemporary pieces but when I asked the shopkeeper about them, she said the oils were family possessions and had been the work of some mysterious suitor from her mother's youth.

"She allowed me to look at some old family photographs. There was one of a handsome young man of unusual height and on the back, written in the same wild script, was the notation '...I'll always remember Paris, the dappled light off the Seine, that stiff Bordeaux, the silly hat you wore.' It was signed much like the painting, 'Zapp.'"

Mrs. Quackenbush was so intrigued by the find that she immediately left, first for Florida, and then to Europe, ostensibly on an antique-gathering expedition, but in fact to do further research on what had become an obsession.

"I just couldn't get it out of my mind," exclaimed Mrs. Quackenbush. "The picture had obviously been a photo of Marshal Luger in his youth. The thing that so interested me was not that he had spent time as an artist in Fayette-ville but that at some point, he apparently left for Europe. His art drew him into the cause of the Spanish separatists and their brave fight against fascism."

In Florida, Mrs. Quackenbush was able to find records that referred to Marshal Luger's travels. "He was one of the first passengers on the London-Paris night ferry in 1936, leaving from Victoria Station and unloading in Dunkirk, with a final destination at the Gare du Nord in Paris."

"He quickly left for Spain, where he met George Orwell fighting along the Ebro River. Local legend has it that he single-handedly captured General Francisco Franco but then later became disillusioned with the war, released the Generalissimo and began study with Pablo Picasso. He worked with Picasso during the production of Guernica but some sort of split occurred between the two artists and Zapp returned to Paris where he was a student of Paul Klee in Klee's last years."

"References imply that he knew Camus. Some say he was the original Stranger. He also did a lot of drinking with F. Scott Fitzgerald. Fitzgerald called him 'Zappo' Is'ít that darling."

Mrs. Quackenbush's exhaustive research continued.

ñBy 1938, he began to disassociate himself from the German expressionist art movement, the so called Blaue Reiter school, and in a funk because of what he believed to be Hitler's distortion of German heritage, became interested in surrealism. Salvadore Dali, eager to influence the brooding young Zapp, invited him to study but according to his friend Orwell, Zapp considered Dali 'as antisocial as a flea' and declined."

"Not long after this, the Nazi's deprived the German Jews of all civil rights and began a series of pogroms and Zapp, unable to stand the insult to his German heritage, left France to fight Hitler with the underground."

"Here, things got sketchy. All I could find was a reference in the records of De Gaulle's Free French Forces to a very large man who arrived one day with a full division of captive German soldiers. He apparently handed over the prisoners and said. "I'm done. I'm goin' back home."

"Not three months later, Zapp Luger returned to Round Top. No one in town ever knew why he refused to talk about those years."

The Marshal has declined any comment about the Quackenbush "Lost Years" report.

MARSHAL LUGER
TAKES FAMILY LEAVE

Strange Goings On Out in the Woods

Some hollows and hills hold a mystery that eluded the craft of even those canny hunters. Travelers returning home from a hunt would tell stories, around those long-ago campfires, about forests that could make a man lose his way, forests filled with strange sounds and sudden winds, forests that wanted to be left alone. They would tell their stories, and other hunters would nod their heads. They knew of such places, places of strange power, and knew to steer clear of them.

If you knew where to look, you might find deep woods like that not far from Round Top. And if you did, you might see two figures in the gathering dusk around a dancing fire. One would be a giant of a man, his immense frame hulking over the other. He would be pacing back and forth in front of the flames, an occasional low rumble escaping his lips.

Another’s shadow would be leaping between the trees, but the man who cast that shadow would be sitting very still. If your night vision was good, you might see him sitting on a log, his square, almost-plump face atop a long grey beard. From time to time you would hear him murmur words of consolation to the giant.

And, if you looked very carefully indeed, you might see something else, an indistinct shimmering, like a cloud of fireflies, swarming around the edges of the prancing light.

But, of course, you would not be able to find a forest like that. Such places know how to hide from normal men and women. Even if you went looking for it, you would simply find yourself doubling back on your own trail, confused and frustrated, wondering why you had set out in the first place, and feeling a fool.

And even if, by some strange twist of fate, you did stumble on such a place, you would find no such men and no such fire.

For, those men are not ordinary men. No matter what your woodland savvy, they would have known you were coming long before you stumbled into that hidden valley. They would have left no more trace than a morning fog disappearing into the rising sun.

“Uuummmm” the big man moaned, and kept up his frenzied pace.

“Whaddaya think, Joe? Is he gonna dig us a well before he stops?”

The swarm of fireflies sparkled softly. A sudden breeze kicked up some ashes from the fire, and there was a muffled noise that sounded vaguely like a dry chuckle.

Suddenly the giant let out a great burst of air, more like the bellow of a bull than any sound emitted by a mere man. His arms, knotted with muscle, looked more like the arching limbs of an oak than ordinary flesh. He clasped them behind his neck and strained against himself for a moment, his neck and shoulder muscles bunching like coils of thick rope, then dropped his hands to his side and plodded over to sit beside the bearded man on the log.

“It’s just a shock, Sack. I thought Dady died when I was forty-two.” He shook his head. “I just can’t believe it.” He pulled an old photograph out of his pocket and starred at it. His eyes filled with tears. “Why didn’t he ever try to get ahold of me? Why didn’t he let me know he was still alive?”

The photo showed a thin old man in a ragged straw hat and rumpled overalls. If you had been there to look over the big man’s broad shoulders, you might have thought the old man looked vaguely familiar. “You remember when you first met him, grandson” asked the bearded old man?

“How could I forget. You and me was stumblin’ around up in New England. It was up in Hartford, Connecticut, back in around 1881 or 1882. I still didn’t know you was my grandpappy. I just thought you was an old coot that was good at scarin’ up rabbits.” He let out a pained chuckle. “I was a damn ignorant fool in those days. I couldn’t bare read a lick. I wasn’t even housebroke. Didn’t have no manners an’ got in too many fights. Dady was already old and famous.” The big man shook his head sorrowfully. “He didn’t have no cause to take on a fool ignoramous like me.”

The bearded old man patted the giant on the shoulder. “You was good at heart, Zapp, just like you are today, and he saw that.” The old man looked away for a moment. “I got a few regrets of my own about them days. I wasn’t much of a grandpa to ya, hidin’ the fact that I was your kin, tryin’ to ride the fence just so I wouldn’t get hurt no more.” His voice trailed off into the night like a lost child.

“Hell Sack. I guess I wouldn’t have understood that back then, but I sure as heck do now. This curse on our family is damn hard to live with. I may only be 134 years old, not comin’ up on 200 like you are, but I have lived long enough to figure that out.

“You had lost you second wife and family. You was afraid if I knew you was my grandpa, I would latch on to you and you would have to watch me grow old and die, too. How was you supposed to know I had the curse in my blood, too.”

“Now hold on, boy,” corrected the old man. “You know I don’t hold with callin’ our condition a curse. I’m sure the Maker has a plan for everone, even us.”

“Humph!” grunted the giant and sat quiet with his own thoughts.

Around the fire, the shimmering cloud of fireflies began to dance a magical minuet. They whirled faster and faster in the fluttering light until their soft lights seemed to grow together. If you had been hiding behind a tree near that lonely campfire, you might have thought you saw the face of an old man in that subtle glow.

“What’s that Joe?” asked the old man. “Cain’t you speak up?”

Suddenly the cloudy light grew brighter, and a dim apparition appeared. If you had been hiding behind that tree, your eyes would have popped out of your head. Even in magical woods like those, it’s not every day that a ghost pops out of thin air.

“Why don’tcha quit feelin’ sorry for yourself, you big overgrown ape,” snarled the phantom, “At least you ain’t dead!”

The giant’s eyes narrowed as though a deep anger was brewing, then he burst out laughing.

“Well Joe, I guess you got me there. I could be a cranky old spook with a bad attitude, like you.” He laughed again and slapped his knee.

The bearded man turned to the spinning wraith and spoke softly. “Now Joe. You never made it much past eighty. You don’t know what it’s like bein’ stuck in this world...” He paused as though rethinking what he was saying. The spook fixed him with an irritated glare. “Well..., alive I mean. I guess it could be right aggravatin’ to be stuck here dead as well,” he said sheepishly.

“Oh, quit your bellyachin’ you skinny old devil” chuckled the giant. “You seem like you’re havin’ a pretty good time scarin’ all those tourists to me.” He looked down at the photo that was still in his huge hands and sobered up. “I remember when Dady decided he was going to teach me how to read. I was a trial for him, his bein’ so educated and cultured and all. I guess he thought I was thick as a boot.”

“Oh, you know Sam,” said the old man. “He was always lookin’ for a good story, or a tall tale. He liked you well enough, but I think he mainly thought you and me was a couple of oddities. Besides, we did our work on that place of his, and got nothin’ but a place to sleep and a few good meals. I kinda figured he owed us a little extra.”

“Sack, he didn’t have no real money of his own,” bristled the big man. “You know he wasn’t cheap, nor dishonest. He just weren’t too good at accounting.”

“That’s for damn sure,” huffed Uncle Sack. “He made all kinds of money, for doin’ nothing but tellin’ stories, and then blew it all livin’ above his means.” He shook his head again. “Famous all over the world, everbody readin’ his work, and havin’ to roam Europe like a begger, chargin’ rich folks to hear his tales, just to pay his creditors.”

“I don’t like to hear you talk him down, Sack” grumbled the giant. “I loved that man. He did a lot for me.”

The old man stood up from the log, looked down at the giant. A fond smile poked out of his beard. “You always was loyal, Zapp. That’s one o’ your charms.” A look of compassion came to his face. “But, that’s why he couldn’t tell you where he was goin’.”

The giant peered up into the old man’s eyes. “What do you mean, Sack?”

“You know me and Sam got pretty close there in his later years. He was a sharp fella, not like most folks, who will go out of their way to explain away the unexplained. “I tried my best to disguise my lack of agin’, like I always do, but he figured it out. One day he confronted me about it, and wouldn’t let up askin’ questions until I let the cat out of the bag.

“I told him how I never stayed in one place, and how I had faked my death several times when there was no other way to leave without hurting the people I had come to love.

The old man tipped his head to the side. “He was tired, Zapp. Sure, everybody loved him, but nobody would let him alone. Everbody wanted somethin’ from him. He was one of the most famous people in the world, and one of the most respected, but he had lost one thing, that in the end, he came to prize more than any thing else, his freedom. He just wanted to spend his last few years the way he spent his younger ones, able to go where he wanted, when he wanted, without anybody makin’ a fuss. That’s why he come to Texas.”

The hurt was clear in the big man’s eyes. “But, why didn’t he tell me?” he shouted! “Why did he let me think he was dead?”

“I don’t mean to make you feel bad, Zapp,” said the old man softly. “but you never was too good with a secret, especially in those days, and you would have worried so that you would have never let him go off on his own like he wanted to. He didn’t mean to hurt you, but it was his only way out.”

The mighty lawman jumped up from the log and stomped over to a huge live oak just outside the light of the fire. He rared back his fist and struck the tree with a blow that echoed all over the woods, then stood there without speaking.

The old man and the ghost left him to his grief.

Time means different things to men like those. They do not live, like you and I, with the spectr of death sitting on their shoulder. Neither had felt the need to rush, in order to get things done, in over a hundred years. They filled their places around the fire without speaking until the first light of dawn began peeking like a playful child through the serpentine limbs of the live oaks over their heads.

Then, the giant let out a great sigh, and shuffled back to join the old man and the ghost.

“I guess I better get back to town,” said the Marshal, his voice hollow but full of resolve. “There’s no tellin’ what kinda mischief is brewin’ back there what with all them tourists runnin’ around wild.”

The ghost snorted. “God knows you make a mountain out of a molehill. With all the law enforcement that town needs, you could work one day a month. What you gonna do, talk the council into makin’ gossip illegal so you can stay busy?”

The giant smiled slowly. “You may be right, Joe. Maybe I’ll go fishin’ instead. Hey Sack, you wanna go? That hole over on Cummins Creek off Willow Springs Road has probably got a few bass in it after these rains.”

The old man groaned and lifted his bulk off the rotting log. “I’m gonna have to let you catch all the big ones, Zapp. I got to turn in my column to the Register before that crybaby editor gets his nose outa joint. He always puts that thing off ‘til the last minute and then has a coniption fit if my piece ain’t sittin’ on his desk by deadline.”

The giant laughed. “Why you feel like you got to write them fool columns, I will never know. That dang editor ain’t got the sense God gave a goose. Why don’t you send them things off to some real newspaper, like the New York Times or somethin’?

“Oh, you know why,” explained the old man patiently. “They think I’m all made up. They think that editor comes up with those columns on his own.”

“Yeah, fat chance that dimwit could write anything that makes any sense,” grumbled the giant. “Oh, now Zapp. He ain’t so bad. He’s kinda like you was when you was younger,” he teased. “He just takes him self a little too seriously. He’s got a good heart and he does the best he can.”

The giant and the ghost looked at each other and burst out laughing. The old man smiled as all three shared a private joke.

As the sun peaked its head over the rolling hills to the east, the two men carefully put out their fire, and using woodcraft that had not been seen in those hills since the mid 1800’s, soon had the clearing looking like it had never seen the footprint of man. At some point, the spirit of Old Joe coalesced into a arching waterfall of sparks and disappeared.

Not long after, the two men stepped out into the clearing and shook hands. The old man reached up into the giant’s breast pocket and once more gazed upon the aging photograph.

“Sam was happy here in Round Top those last few years. I came and visited him a couple of times. He stayed to himself and folks around here just figured he was another old geezer in the woods.” He peered into the giant’s sorrowful eyes. “It was the best thing for him, Zapp. You had years with him. You ought to let him go.”

“I guess so,” rumbled the mammoth lawman. “I was pretty lucky if you think about it. Not ever’ man in these hills got taught how to read by the great Mark Twain.”